Chapter 45
45
PORTIA
I stared at my laptop screen, scrolling through rental listings for what felt like the hundredth time. The coffee beside me had gone cold, forgotten as I hunted for something—anything—that would get me out of this rental. Being this close to Dean was like a constant ache, a bruise I couldn’t stop pressing.
“Two bedroom, walking distance to Main Street,” I muttered, clicking on a promising listing only to find it was already rented. “Of course.”
My eyes kept drifting to the window, where I could see the edge of his property. I forced myself to look away. No good would come from torturing myself like this.
I needed distance. Physical distance. The emotional kind would have to come later. I thought about purchasing a home, but nothing on the market right now appealed to me. And what did appeal to me was out of my price range. So, for now, I was a renter.
Unfortunately, I was not finding anything. I told myself if I could just hold out until the end of summer, the market would be flooded with listings. All the summer people would be bailing out. But that felt like forever. And there was nothing to say Dean would even let me stay.
My phone buzzed with a text from Dad.
How are you holding up?
I typed back quickly: Fine. Looking for a new place.
You can always stay with us.
I smiled despite myself. Moving back in with my parents at twenty-seven wasn’t exactly the dream, but the offer touched me. I’d been so determined to prove myself, to show everyone I could make it on my own, that I’d forgotten what it felt like to have people who were just there. No conditions. No expectations. Just there.
Thanks, Dad. I might take you up on that.
I set my phone down and looked out the window again, unable to help myself. Dean’s truck wasn’t in the driveway. It hadn’t been for days. I’d spotted him once, riding his motorcycle out at dawn, his shoulders hunched against the wind. He looked like a man running from ghosts.
More like running from me. Boo .
I closed the laptop and checked the time. It was time to get to work. I slid my laptop into my bag and dumped out the rest of my coffee.
I grabbed my keys and headed out the door, the late morning sun warm on my face. I drove to my usual parking spot and walked down to the coffee shop.
The scent of freshly ground beans and baked goods wrapped around me like a hug. There were a couple of regulars scattered at tables with their laptops or newspapers.
“Hey, Portia.” Sarah smiled as I walked up to the counter. “The usual?”
“Yeah, thanks,” I said, returning her smile as I dug my wallet out of my bag. “You know me too well.”
Sarah chuckled, already reaching for a cup. “Double shot oat milk latte, extra foam. You’re one of my easiest customers.”
“That’s a good thing,” I said.
“How’s business?”
“Picking up,” I replied.
“I don’t know about you, but I’m looking forward to the end of summer,” Sarah said.
“Why?” I asked. “I would think all the business means good tips.”
“Yes, but I’m over it. I’m ready for lazy Saturdays and Monday morning moms.”
I laughed. “I get it.”
She handed me my coffee.
“Thank you,” I said. “Hang in there. We’ve only got a few weeks left.”
She just laughed and helped the next customer. I adjusted my grip on the overstuffed folder of contracts tucked under my arm, the laptop bag hanging on my shoulder juggling my coffee in the other hand. The last thing I expected was to collide with a solid wall of muscle—until I looked up and found myself staring into familiar blue eyes.
Dean .
My breath caught. He was the last person I expected to see. Or wanted to see. We’d been doing a great job avoiding each other. For a heartbeat, neither of us spoke. He looked the same—broad shoulders, strong jaw, that intensity in his gaze that always made my stomach flip—but there was something different now. A heaviness in the way he carried himself, a weariness in the lines around his eyes. I felt bad for him.
He glanced at the folder in my arms. “Business is good?”
I swallowed, nodding and trying my best to look casual. “Better than I could have hoped. Got three new clients this week.”
Something flickered across his face—not jealousy, not regret, just quiet realization. “You’re really staying.”
The words hung between us.
“I never planned on leaving,” I said softly. “Not once.”
His throat worked, but he didn’t speak. The silence stretched, thick with everything we weren’t saying.
I shifted on my feet, desperate to fill the void. “And you? How are you holding up?”
Dean exhaled, running a hand through his hair. The movement made his biceps flex under his T-shirt, and I hated that I still noticed. I didn’t think I would ever not notice. There was a connection there that would always be.
“Seth’s doing his time,” he said. “I check in when I can, make sure he’s got what he needs.” He shook his head. “Few more months left, and then we’ll see.”
My heart squeezed. “You’re a good brother, Dean.”
He scoffed. “Not sure he’d agree.”
“I do.”
Our eyes locked, and for a moment, there was no one else. No cars on the street or moms pushing their young children in strollers. It was just the two of us. The love was still there, humming beneath the surface, as real as the summer heat.
Dean swallowed hard. “Maybe we were just bad timing.”
I nodded slowly. “Maybe.”
The word tasted like ash on my tongue. The bitterest lie that I knew I would regret.
Was that all we were? A near miss? A what-if?
The questions burned in my chest. Did he still think about me at night? Did he regret pushing me away? Did he ever imagine what could have been? I found it impossible to believe he really thought what we had was a passing fancy. A fling. That kind of connection we shared went far behind a casual hookup. And it was definitely a lot more than fun .
Before I could stop myself, I stepped closer, pressing my palm against his chest. His heart thundered beneath my fingers, betraying the calm of his expression. That told me exactly what I needed to know. He wasn’t as unaffected by seeing me as he pretended.
Dean inhaled sharply, his hand closing around my wrist. “Portia?—”
I didn’t let him finish. Rising onto my toes, I pressed a slow kiss to his cheek, letting my lips linger just long enough to feel the warmth of his skin, the scratch of his stubble, and inhaled the scent of him. The kiss was a promise. A question. A hint of what could be again if he just said the word.
When I pulled back, I let my hand fall.
“Take care of yourself, Dean.”
I turned before he could see the tears in my eyes, walking away with my heart pounding in my throat. But as I rounded the corner, I couldn’t help glancing back.
Dean still stood where I’d left him, one hand pressed to his cheek where my lips had been, watching me go.
And for the first time in weeks, I let myself wonder.
What if we weren’t done?
Could there be a chance?
Did I want there to be a chance? Dean would probably break my heart. Again. The last thing I wanted to do was get involved in some yo-yo relationship. The on-off thing would feed the gossip and drag both of us through hell. We either had to be all in or nothing at all. I just wasn’t sure either of us could do it. He declared he didn’t do relationships and I refused to be a fling.
I wasn’t sure where that left us.
I walked to my office, unlocked the door, and rushed inside. I wasn’t sure if I was expecting him to follow me. Did I want him to?
Duh .
An hour later, Alexis breezed in as she so often did. I could smell the croissants the second she opened the door.
“You’re not going to believe who I ran into,” I said, my voice cracking as I tore off a piece of the croissant Alexis had brought. It flaked onto the desk between us. I wiped it away absently, my mind still replaying the moment with Dean.
“Who? And why do you look like you’ve just seen a ghost?”
“Dean,” I said, the name feeling heavy on my tongue. “I saw Dean.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “No kidding. How’d that go?”
I sighed, leaning back in my chair. “Awkward. Intense. Confusing. Take your pick.”
She smirked, popping a piece of croissant into her mouth. “Details, Portia. Don’t leave me hanging.”
I hesitated, then spilled it all—the way he looked at me, the weight in his voice when he mentioned Seth, the way he didn’t flinch when I touched him but didn’t pull away either. And then, of course, the kiss.
“You kissed him?” Alexis’s eyes widened, her hands freezing mid-air. “On the cheek or what?”
“On the cheek,” I clarified quickly, though my face burned at the implication. “But it wasn’t just a friendly peck. It was—I don’t know. A statement? A question? I don’t even know what I was trying to say.”
Alexis leaned forward, her expression serious now. “What did he do?”
“Nothing,” I said, shrugging helplessly. “He just stood there, looking like I’d slapped him instead of kissed him. And then I walked away.”
She whistled low under her breath. “Damn. That’s intense.”
“Tell me about it,” I muttered. “I don’t even know why I did it. It just felt right in the moment.”
Alexis studied me for a long moment before speaking again. “Do you still have feelings for him?”
The question hit me like a punch to the gut. I opened my mouth to deny it, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, I slumped forward, resting my elbows on the desk and burying my face in my hands.
“Yes,” I admitted quietly, my voice muffled by my palms. “God help me, Alexis, I think I always will.”
“Maybe it’s not over yet.”
I lifted my head to look at her, tears pricking at the corners of my eyes. “How can it not be? He made it clear what he wants—or doesn’t want—from me.”
Alexis shrugged, her lips curving into a knowing smile. “People change, Portia. Maybe Dean has too.”
“He seemed surprised to find out I was staying,” I said.
“See! He didn’t know before. Now, that he does, he’ll probably want to start up again.”
I shook my head. “No way. I don’t want him to only want me if it’s convenient.”
“So,” she said, wiping her hands. “What now?”
“Now I focus on work. On my clients. On building something real here.”
Alexis studied me. “And Dean?”
“Dean made his choice.”
“Did he?” She tilted her head. “Because from where I’m sitting, you both made choices based on fear, not truth.”
I opened my mouth to argue, but the words died on my lips. Because she was right.
I’d been so afraid of failing again, of losing myself in another city, that I’d clung to this town like a lifeline. And Dean? Dean had been so afraid of holding me back that he’d pushed me away entirely.
But fear wasn’t a foundation. And it sure as hell wasn’t love.
“What am I supposed to do, Alexis? Chase after a man who made it clear he doesn’t want to be caught?”
She smiled, slow and knowing. “I think you already know the answer to that.”
Before I could formulate a better argument, my phone rang.
Alexis got to her feet. “I’ll let you get to it. Think about it. I’ll see you later.”